


Revenge

by NerdyAdjacent



Series: Dark Days [8]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Abuse, Community: wrestlingkink, Evil!Seth, Hate Sex, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation, Rough Sex, Sex, This will definitely NOT be for everyone, non/dub con, pretty dark, really unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-12 00:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7077532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyAdjacent/pseuds/NerdyAdjacent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seth's voice was low and chiding, something he'd grown used to these past few years. A natural sort of condescendence that just oozed from his vocal cords. He didn't even try to hide it as he approached his victim. Partner? He was still unsure of the terminology.</p><p>Sequel: <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7147139/chapters/16227977">COUNTERPLAY</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Full prompt:  
> Okay, so I want Seth to be back all arrogant and assholish setting his eyes on Roman to take back his place as the champ. He sees Dean and can't help but think why not throw Roman off of his game by getting a little personal. He knew Roman's weakness. Dean. Dean's weakness? His insecurities. He will not only be able to wound Roman professionally, but personally too.
> 
> Manipulative Top!Seth. Vulnerable insecure bottom!Dean. Possessive/Jealous!Roman. Pretty please. Dean can be willing or not with Seth. Evil Seth is mouth watering too. Just lot of protective Roman and vulnerable painslut!Dean. Roman being on top has got him busy and maybe Dean feel neglected and its easy to use that against Roman.
> 
> I would be grateful if someone does this

"Dean, Dean, Dean.”

Seth's voice was low and chiding, something he'd grown used to these past few years. A natural sort of condescendence that just oozed from his vocal cords. He didn't even try to hide it as he approached his victim. Partner? He was still unsure of the terminology.

“How many times are we going to play this game? Huh?” He was standing in front of him now, eyes following the shaggy curl of his sandy hair to the duct tape over his usually running mouth, up to his outstretched arms and the cuffs holding them to the pipe above his head, back down his bare chest and low slung jeans that wouldn't stay on for much longer, back up to angry blue eyes waiting desperately for something to happen. “It's funny, I'm not even playing it with you. This is to get at your - what are you calling each other now? - _uce_. Yet here you are, strung up for me to do whatever the fuck I want.”

Dean tugged at the cuffs, all angry and determined, drawing a short little chuckle from Seth's mouth. “They're pretty tight, I don't think you're going anywhere.”

He began to circle him, grinning at the way Dean tried to follow his movements as he stepped behind him, tensing and grunting and twisting to try to keep Seth where he could see him, ultimately unable to do so. 

“You know, I always admired what you and Roman had.” He sounded almost sad, the grin a wayward expression now that Dean could no longer see him. And he was telling the truth. “It seemed so effortless, like how lovers should act. Maybe I was even a little jealous.”

Dean tensed and tried to pull away when he traced a finger down the indent of his spine, admiring the lean muscle woven in his back. “But I guess it's pointless to dwell on the past, right?” 

He stepped up to Dean now, pressing his chest against the warm skin of his back. His captive jumped and tried to pull away, another useless attempt at putting distance between them. There would never be distance between the two, there never had been and there never would be. Always connected in some way, shape, or form. 

Seth leaned his head against the back of Dean's neck and drew in a breath of that musky, sweat smell, leather, and whatever soap the man had used. It was intoxicating, an aroma he had all but forgotten, one only changed by the absence of cigarette smoke. Dean must have quit since the last time he was close enough to smell him. 

Placing a surprisingly chaste kiss to the nape of his neck, Seth snaked an arm around Dean's thin waist and let his hand lazily wander up his chest, feeling the ridges and valleys of the well toned body. He could swear he felt Dean shiver, an almost imperceptible jolt running just under his skin, and he grinned against his back. Dean had always been so easy, so needy, so… _Dean_. 

However easy he may be, Dean always needed that shock to his system to get going, a bit of pain intermingled with his pleasure. Seth’d be all to happy to oblige, so his hand moved again, far faster than before, to wrap around Dean's neck and squeeze. The hitched sound of surprise was beautiful. “I'm going to really enjoy this.” He said, and he meant it. “I'm going to enjoy making you hate me all over again. Though…”

His other hand moved this time and grabbed at Dean's crotch through his jeans. He almost hated that Dean couldn't see the smug smile on his face now, because Dean was hard already. “...I think you're going to enjoy me making you hate me just as much.”

He held his neck for longer than he probably should have if the jumping of Deans Adam's apple under his palm was any indication. When he let go, the long intake of breath through his nostrils was almost laughable. 

Seth moved to stand in front of him again, the smug grin still playing on his face was only matched by the malice in Dean's eyes. Good. He liked when Dean hated him. He grabbed his face, the brief moment of shock quickly disappearing when he pressed his lips firmly to the tape covered mouth of his captive. 

Pulling away and watching Dean's eyes closely, he chuckled and pay him lightly on the cheek. “We're about to have a lot of fun, aren't we? But first…”

He reached in his pocket and almost laughed at the tensing of his captives body. He pulled out a small remote control. Pointing it toward the camera he had set up hours ago, he pressed record and tossed it aside before again turning back to Dean. “Let's make Roman angry, shall we?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Son of a bitch...this is going to be longer than 2 chapters. 
> 
> Also, holy crap the response to evil!seth has been amazing. I didn't realize you all liked him that much! 
> 
> Thanks for all the amazing comments and kudos!
> 
> Wow.

“Hey, Roman, package for you.”

He turned just fast enough to catch the small cardboard box. Not thinking much of it, he placed it down on the bench in the locker room and continued putting away his gym stuff. It was probably something from a fan anyway, he got things pretty often. It wasn't until he saw the handwriting scrawled on the packaging did he even give it a second thought. 

Seth's messy script. He'd know that chicken scratch anywhere. 

Confused now, he sat and inspected the box. He and Seth hadn't been on good terms lately, even going so far as saying they were enemies, so the fact he'd sent a strangely anonymous package to his hotel was...well, strange. 

Curious, he tore off the packing tape and opened the box. Inside was what appeared to be a set of car keys. Deans keys if the little Lego Batman keychain was any indication. There was a message taped to it, again in Seths messy writing. _Watch immediately. Watch alone._

“What am I watching?” He mumbled to himself. Then he noticed the flash drive on the key ring. Well, Dean never used technology, so that certainly wasn't his. 

Pulling his laptop from the bag, he slipped his headphones on and the flash into the port. There was only one file on it. This was awfully dramatic of Seth, even more so than usual. 

He was hesitant to click the file. For all he knew, it was some virus that would release all his photos to the media or something. He wouldn't put that above him. But why Dean’s keys? Something didn't sit right here. Curiosity would get the better of him. 

Giving one last look to make sure he was alone, he clicked the file. Immediately a video screen popped up, black. Then, Seth's face taking up the entirety of the screen.

He was smiling, an eerie sort of grin that only psychopaths and mental patients had. It was one that said ‘I just did something really stupid, and ain't it grand!’

 _“Hi Roman!”_ The Seth on the computer said, voice a little manic. _”I bet you're wondering what this is all about. Well, let's just say I've shot one across your bow. Consider this my first strike. You have something I want, I have something you want. Though, he's been pretty compliant so far.”_

He?

Seth stepped aside, a grin on his face as if he could predict what Roman's reaction would be. There, head down, arms tethered above him, and stripped naked, was Dean. Roman closed the computer for a second, unsure of what the hell was happening. Another quick look around the locker room to make sure no one was around. A sudden burst of fear ran through him as well as a hot rage that Seth could even fathom to do this. Dean sure as shit didn't look compliant.

When he reopened the computer screen, Seth face was again crowding the screen. _“Let me guess, you're pretty pissed right now, right? Well, this’ll really make you mad!”_

It was quick, maybe 5 seconds or so, but a snippet of Seth fucking Dean flashed across the screen. The image would be burned in his brain for the rest of his life; Seth pumping into Dean, his hand around his neck, biting at his shoulder. Dean was moaning behind the duct tape over his mouth, hands clenched in the cuffs above his head, hard as a rock as Seth fucked him brutally.

As quick as it there it was gone and Seth's face was again on the screen. _”Do I have your attention now?”_

Roman was red with anger, hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. This son of a bitch had kidnapped Dean, spouting that he had ‘sent a shot across the bow’.

 _”I want my title back, Roman.”_ Seth said, smile gone and replaced by a serious, determined expression. _“Use Dean's car and bring it to the address in the box or things are just gonna get worse for him. Oh, one more thing, if you call the cops, he's dead.”_

The screen went blank, leaving Roman in a stunned silence rife with anger and worry and rage.

He was going to kill Seth Rollins.


	3. Chapter 3

He wasn't quite sure what to do when he closed the computer. All he knew for sure is that Seth wouldn't get away with this. Something must have snapped in his mind when he got hurt, some wires crossed or weird disconnect from reality that would be something more up Dean's alley. He'd lost it.

And Dean. Poor, poor Dean, who always had some sort of weird attraction to Seth, has gotten snagged into his web of deceit and, frankly, insane ideas of revenge. Over what? A piece of metal? He could have it for all Roman cared. Dean, his uce, was more important than a belt. They had made towns, crashed cars, and had won more back alley bar fights then he could count, and that's what made them such good friends. No, brothers. 

Every instinct he had was screaming for him to call the police, send them to this address, and get Seth behind bars where he belonged. But how could he with the threat of death to his friend, his brother? 

So he'd play Seth's game. Seth, the master manipulator, wasn't one to bluff. He wouldn't risk Dean's life over this. 

He didn't even hesitate to find Dean’s car in the parking lot, the piece of paper with the address scrawled on it firmly grasped in his clenched fist as he ran to the vehicle. His heart was racing when he reached it, and not from exertion. He was scared. Roman Reigns was afraid. Afraid and angry and nervous and worried all wrapped up in a tension filled package of barely controlled rage. 

Seth Rollins won't know what hit him. Well, maybe he would. He would because it would be Roman Reigns hitting him over and over until his teeth slid down his own throat and his face, one he prides himself on, was a mere memory of the handsome it used to be. Seth Rollins was a dead man. 

Until then? Roman was a tightly wound Samoan on adrenaline overload. He fumbled with Dean’s keys in the ignition, dropping them twice before finally getting the car to start. The GPS in Dean's center console had never been used, thanks to his friends complete lack of technological know how, and he had to damn near manhandle the thing to get the address typed in. 

He hated that stupid robotic voice as it called out lefts and rights, turn after turn, until the city was a mere blotch on the skyline and nothing but empty expanse of road lay before him. 50 miles never seemed so far and Roman had broken every single traffic law to get to his destination. He made it in just under 45 minutes. Pretty damn good, and if he wasn't so wracked with worry he might even brag about it someday. 

Bigger fish to fry.

The building loomed dark at the end of long, gravel drive with nothing around it readily visible. A concrete and grey facade marred by broken factory windows and slatted doors meant it could have been a warehouse or garage at some point. In its isolation, it was perfect if you didn't want anyone to bother you while you rape and torture someone. 

A fresh wave of anger washed over Roman at the thought. He squared his jaw, tensed his shoulders, furrowed his brow, and growled as he climbed out of Dean’s car with the title in hand. 

But he stopped.

Seth was far from stupid. He probably had this place wired or boobytrapped or something, just waiting for the overtime moment to strike. Roman would have to be careful from here on out. 

Squaring his shoulders again, he tightened his grip on the tainted title and move slowly toward the building. He didn't see any immediate threats, but that didn't mean anything. It was getting dark so, at this point, Seth definitely had the advantage. 

“Seth!” He called into the quickly fading light. “I'm here!”

No answer. Not even the sound of crickets could be heard in the fields surrounding the building. Ominously quiet. 

“Seth, get your ass where I can see you!”

Again, no answer. 

Either he wasn't here, Seth had sent him to the wrong location, or he was playing some sort of game. It was most likely the latter. 

“Mother fucker, I know you're here!” He yelled again. “I want to see Dean!”

Nothing. 

He pushed open what he guessed was the front door and it gave way, falling to the ground in a heap of splintered wood and old glass. This was overly dramatic, even for Seth. Inside was as decrepit as the outside. Decaying shelves with old merchandise clinging to them were everywhere, the floor was covered with leaves and debris that had probably blown on from storms over the years, and the smell of mold and decay seemed to cling to every atom in the air. It was something out of a horror movie, where the bad guy lies in wait to jump at the hero. Maybe that wasn't a too far off comparison. 

“Seth?” He called into the empty space. “Dean?”

Again, silence. He scanned the space, trying to use all his senses to find Dean. That's when he saw the sliver of light peeking from under a door to his left. Walking slowly, and with deliberate footfalls, he made his way to it and gently pushed it open with his foot. It creaked and protested the movement to his hinges, but stayed intact unlike the forgotten front door. “Dean?”

A muffled moan. He definitely heard it. Picking up his pace, he descended the dangerous wooden stairs and followed the light. The closer he got, the more he could hear pained groaning. Another room, maybe a boiler room, is where he was lead. 

He stopped in his tracks when he saw him, arms stretched above him as the cuffs dug into the sensitive skin of his now bloody wrists, his chest was covered in scratches - fingernail marks? - and his face was bloody and bruised, mouth still taped. It looked as if Dean Ambrose had gone 10 rounds with the fucking Undertaker. At least Seth had the decency to put his jeans back on.

He could barely focus his eyes when Roman finally came to his senses and ran to him. “Jesus Christ, what did he do to you!?”  
There was a muffled response behind his duct tape covered mouth. Roman tore it off quickly, Dean wincing at the sharp pain. 

“Roman, he's...he's fucking lost it!” Dean said, panicked and scared like Roman had never seen before. “He...what he did to me…” 

“I know, I’ll kill him for that.” And Roman meant it. “Key?”

“I-I don't know.” Dean answered with a shake of his head. “Try the bag.”

Off to the side was a backpack, Seth's Roman would assume. He ran to it and rifled through every pocket until he damn near jumped for joy when his fingers found a small silver key. He freed Dean quickly, the man falling into his arms from sheer exhaustion. “Are you alright?”

A shrug, “I'm sorry, Roman.”

“Don't you dare be sorry!” He growled and shouldered deans weight. “He's the one who's going to be sorry!”

“No, I mean I'm _sorry_ Roman.”

That's when everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

His head was pounding, like ten thousands elephants had stampeded across the back of his skull repeatedly. What happened? Last thing he remembered was Dean, hanging there so helpless and Seth nowhere to be found. He wondered if Seth somehow got the drop on him. He was so focused on getting Dean down, it was completely possible that Seth just hit him with something hard. 

And Dean? Holy shit, was he okay? He was apologizing. Why was he apologizing? Seth had obviously used him as some sort of bait, knowing Roman would go right for him in an effort to play the hero. Now that Roman had showed up, what would he do with him? Hurt him? Kill him? 

But something didn't add up. Something was wrong and he couldn't put his finger on it.

“He's waking up.” Seth's voice echoed in his head. He was close, right in front of his face if the feel of his hot breath on Roman's skin was any indication. All he would need to do would be to reach out and grab the little motherfucker and snap his scrawny neck. And he tried. 

No luck. 

His eyes shot open at the sudden realization that he was restrained. His arms wouldn't move, nor would his legs. His appendages had been duct taped to the arms and legs of the chair he was sitting in. And there, looking him right in the eyes, face mere inches away and crowding his space, was Seth Rollins with a stupid, gap toothed grin.

“Mornin’ sunshine.” He said, sounding almost chipper. “Yah sleep well?”

“Fuck you Rollins!” He snapped back, a deep rumbling growl filling his chest as he tugged on the tape around his wrists. 

“That wasn't very nice.”

He felt his lips curl into a dangerous snarl, “Where's Dean? If you hurt him...

“Oh, Dean?” Seth said and then pointed behind Roman without dropping the smile from his face. “He's right there.”

He heard the snick of the lighter from somewhere behind him, the room suddenly filling with the smell of cigarettes and the long intake and exhale of breath of someone puffing away at the tobacco like they hadn't done so in years. He tried to crane his neck to see him, to make sure he was alright, but he really didn't have to for long. 

Roman's stomach dropped when Dean stepped into view, fully dressed in his usual attire and leather jacket. There was no more blood on his face, his wrists seemed clean and unmarked, and his lips were curled into a dark sneer around the cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He looked very much in control and downright proud of himself. 

“Hey, _Uce_.” His voice was even, low, almost verging on angry. 

Roman couldn't help but blink up at him in disbelief. No, no this was some sort of trick. This wasn't Dean, not his Dean. His Dean wouldn't be staring at him like this, his Dean would have nothing to do with whatever this was, his Dean was family. But his Dean was staring down at him with nothing but distrust and hate, even if he was smirking ever so slightly. 

“I-I don't understand.” He stammered, trying to shake himself into reality because this obviously had to be a dream. “Seth...but Seth…”

Dean chuckled, “kidnapped me? ‘Fraid not.”

He suddenly took Seth by the hair and pulled him up to his feet, planting a brutal kiss on the younger man as cigarette smoke escaped between their fused lips. Seth groped at Dean's jacket as if it was the only thing keeping him upright as a tongue was shoved into his mouth. When satisfied he'd made his point, he pulled Seth back and shoved him slightly behind him so he could properly glare at Roman. 

“See, this whole little fiasco, was my idea.” He said as if it were the most true thing in the world. “Seth, well he's just my little bitch, aren't you?”

Seth was again pawing at Dean's jacket, voice a nasally whine when he spoke. “Yes, God, please take me right here on him! I want to see the look on his face when you make me come!”

But Dean never broke eye contact with Roman, the sickening grin still there as he took another inhale off the cigarette. He held the small stuck between his fingers and made sure Roman saw it. “You know why I quit these things? You. You told me they were bad for me. You told me, _as a friend_ , that you were just looking out for me. I believed you. So I quit. But I love these things.”

Roman just stared back at him, the betrayal in his face was nothing compared to the betrayal he saw in Dean's eyes. He could see then that this wasn't revenge for Seth, but revenge for Dean. 

“I still don't understand.”

Another smirk from Dean. “No, you wouldn't.” An inhale of smoke that Dean then blew into Roman's face. To his credit, he never wavered even when the smell filled his nose and made his eyes water.

“This has nothing to do with the title, does it?”

It was Seth who spoke next, “Oh no, it does. It's back where it rightfully belongs. With me.”

Dean waved him off, eyes still locked with Roman's. “This is about you and me, Roman.” He said, poking a finger into Roman's chest to accentuate his point. “ _You_ tossed me aside the second you became champion. _You_ took our friendship and traded up to hang with your cousins. The Family, right? I was supposed to be your brother, but you left me floundering against half the fucking roster. The longer it went on, the more I resented you. We were supposed to be brothers, but I was nothing but trash to be kicked aside as soon as you got that taste of fame.”

“So you run back to _him_?” He snarled, nodding a head toward Seth who had the audacity to look offended. “After what he did to us? To you?”

Dean sniffed, “I never left him.”

Roman was taken aback, “But...the feud? You two hate each other.”

“I still hate the motherfucker.” Seth answered, running a hand through Dean's shaggy hair. “But I love him just as much. And oh how he screws so _good_!”

“The video then?” Roman asked, barely able to hold in the crack in his voice. “Explain that?”

“Look,” Dean began “I'm into some kinky shit. He ain't to bad a screw either. It was staged just for you. I came so hard after that I could barely stand up straight.”

Roman felt his stomach lurch, like he would be sick any moment. This was sick, _they_ were sick! Tears were staining his face before he could stop them through the rage. “I hate you both.”

Dean laughed, “No you don't. Through all this, you still love me.”

God damn him for being right. 

“What do we do with him now, Dean?” Seth asked, a sick grin inching at the corner of his mouth. He was anxious for something to happen. The way he was moving reminded him so much of Dean. 

How could he be so blind. How could he just leave Dean to fend for himself when he knew how he was. How could he just toss him aside like trash. Dean was right and he had finally snapped, taking Seth Rollins with him in his downward spiral to this very moment. 

Dean eyes Seth for a moment and gently ran a hand up his ribs, grinning at the shudder that ran bough his lover's body. “Maybe I should just fuck you in front of him. How you like that, Roman?”

Seth groaned and palmed himself through his jeans. “God, yes!”

Rather than answering, he shifted glassy eyes to Deans. “I'm sorry, Dean.”

The Lunatic Fringe dropped his hand from Seth and, without warning, punched Roman hard, sending his head snapping awkwardly to the side. When he recovered, Roman could taste blood in his mouth, but it didn't matter. He repeated his apology, “I'm sorry, Dean.”

Another punch, this time to the other side of his face. When he again recovered, there were angry blue eyes mere inches from his, glassy with tears he was trying so desperately to hold back. “You don't get to apologize now.”

“I'm sorry, Dean.”

Another blow to the face. Another apology. Another punch. Another apology.

Seth grabbed Dean's arm and stopped him from hitting Roman again. “Stop.”

Dean stood with every intention of throwing another punch at Seth, but stopped when the smaller man lovingly took his face in his hands and rubbed small circles onto his temples, calming the beast. Roman could see, despite how they had been talking to each other previously, there was a real relationship between the two of them and he felt the first pangs of jealousy in his chest. They appeared, at least in this moment, to genuinely care for each other. 

When Seth kissed Dean softly, he was far calmer than before but no less angry. 

“Leave him here.” He said to his lover. “We’ll deal with him in the morning.”

Though it obviously pained him, he walked away from Roman. They left the room and closed the heavy iron door behind them. The last Thing Roman heard was the click of the lock and his own ragged breathing.

What had happened to Dean Ambrose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! The SWERVE is real!
> 
> I'd say sorry, but I'm not.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think some of you figured me out. I'm losing my touch. At any rate, evil!Seth returns with a vengeance. Really sensitive themes ahead. Please read the tags for possible triggers here.

“How dare you take over that conversation.” Seth growled, pushing Dean back against the wall. “You think he would care what happened to you if you hadn't dragged your ass to me like the sniveling whore you are?”

“C’mon Seth, did you see his face?” Dean answered, pushing Seth away from him. “I have him just where I want him.”

Seth shook his head and again crowded Dean against the wall, this time his hand found its way to his neck, holding him still so Seth could make his point very, very clear. “This is _not_ the Dean show. You came to _me_ , remember? Begging on hands and knees for me to help you because your big Samoan protector had abandoned you. You undermined me in there, calling me your bitch. I'm no ones bitch, least of all _yours_! I should have claimed you right then and there, but you just had to keep going, forcing me to play along so it would really fuck with his head. It will _never_ happen again!”

Dean watched Seth carefully, eyes widening with every word spoken. But he stayed silent like he should and Seth released his neck, but not his proximity. “You fucked up in there, Dean, lying to Roman like this was all your idea. You made me look weak. Am I weak, _Dean_?”

He didn't answer, rather averting his eyes in shame. But Seth wanted him to say it. He wanted to hear the words leave his mouth. “I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!”

The answer was small, “N-no.”

“‘N-no’ what?”

“No, you aren't weak.”

His eyes narrowed in warning, “You forgot something.”

Dean took a breath and looked Seth right in the eye, “You aren't weak, _sir_.”

“That's what I thought.” He snarled and finally took a step away from Dean. But Dean now needed to be punished for his actions, for trying to play the big, bad mastermind behind all this when he had nothing to do with it. He was just a pawn in seths game to make Roman suffer. And he would, because he needed to see what he'd done to Dean, what he forced Dean to become. A needy pain slut who would rather jump on his enemies dick then run to Roman anymore. But that was tomorrow. Dean had to pay for his actions now. “Take off your belt and give it to me.”

His eyes widened. “Why?”

Seth face hardened and he held out his hand, “You do not get to ask questions after what I did for you back there. Now, _give me your belt_. You'll regret it if I have to ask again.”

Though still hesitant, shaky fingers undid his belt buckle and pulled it free before placing it in Seths hand. Once his fingers closed around it, he immediately ambushed Dean, flipping him around and forcing his chest into the wall while he quickly bound his wrists behind him with Dean's own belt. Once satisfied he wasn't going anywhere, he pressed up against his back and held him there. “You need to learn a lesson, Ambrose.”

“Seth-”

His statement was cut off when two fingers found their way into his mouth, silencing any protests that might be found there. “That was not an invitation to speak, whore. I'd start sucking those digits if I were you, it's the only lubrication you'll get from me.”

While he did just that, Seth used his other hand to undo the button and fly on Dean’s jeans, shimmying them down to mid thigh and taking ahold of this submissive little sluts already hardening cock and squeezing hard enough to force a moan around his fingers. 

“I should stop right now and leave you like this.” He whispered into Dean’s ear, licking at his face while his other hand stroked him with rough, hard pulls. “I should just leave you to deal with Roman on your own. You'd fail, just like you always do, and he'd hate you even more than he already does.”

A hitched whine from the man under him let him know he was on the right track. He picked up some of the pre-cum beginning to bead on Dean’s cock and used it to smooth his quickening strokes. “Face it Dean, no one wants you. I'm all you have.”

Another whimper and Dean began pressing his ass back into Seth's hip. Seth pressed him forward, his dick hitting the wall and a yelp of pain filtered out between his fingers. “You are not in control!” He snapped at him. Funny thing was, he didn't lose any of his hardness. Pain and pleasure, that was Dean. 

He pulled his fingers from Dean's mouth and let go of his cock, smirking at the frustrated whimper. Without warning, he slipped one of his spit slicked digits into Dean and chuckled at the hiss of pain the Lunatic Fringe couldn't hold in. “You like this and you know it. You're nothing more than a cock hungry loser with nothing to lose, am I right?”

“Y-yes…” Dean panted as Seth added another finger, scissoring them inside Dean's tight channel. “Please, Seth... _Fuck_!”

He cried out when Seth crooked his finger, applying pressure directly to his prostate. “Please, what? Tell me what you want, whore.”

“Fuck me!”

A smirk spread across his face as he pushed his fingers in up to the knuckle and Dean damn near doubled over. “Why should I? That would only be giving you what you want. I should stop and leave you in you own frustration.”

“No! Please, please, _please_!” He begged. Seth liked when Dean begged. It meant he had broken him down sufficiently enough that there would be no stopping even if he wanted to. 

He pulled Dean from the wall and shoved his chest hard onto one of the counters, kicking his legs apart as much as he could, fingers still buried in his ass. Dean gasped as he pulled them free without warning as Seth made a move to free his own achingly hard dick free of his jeans. With one loveless spit into his hand, he coated his cock in saliva and lined himself up. It only took one hard snap of his hips and he was in, Dean crying out in pain, surprise, pleasure...Seth really didn't care. Dean could cry out all he wanted, but Seth was taking his frustrations out on his ass. Bracing a hand on the back of Dean's neck, Seth began thrusting without giving the man under him any time to adjust. 

“This is your fault, you remember that.” He panted between thrusts and deans strangled whimpers. “You wanted to play the leader, and now you're getting put back into your place.”

“Shit, fuck, shit!” Was pretty much the extent of dean's vocabulary at this moment in time. 

“You better not come before I tell you to, Ambrose!” He gritted out with an accentuating whack to the back of Dean's head. He grunted and gasped as he sped up, forcing even more whimpers and whines from the man under him. He was close, Seth could tell my the way he was clenching and unclenching his bound hands. “Who is in charge here!”

“Y-you are!” Dean cried out. “Please let me come! Fuck, PLEASE!”

He didn't allow it yet, “You will do what I say, when I say it. Understood?”

“YES!”

“Good!” Seth's own orgasm was edging closer and closer, but he wanted to feel Dean clench around him as he came first. “Come on my cock, Ambrose!”

That was it. Dean slipped over the edge, spilling onto the side of the counter and the floor. His inner muscles fluttered around Seth and he followed with one last hard thrust, fingers gripping into Dean's hips hard. Unceremoniously, he pulled out, undid dean's wrist, and threw the belt at him. 

“Clean yourself up. We have a Samoan to fuck with tomorrow.”


	6. Chapter 6

Seth couldn't sleep. Not after that shit show that was Ambrose's attempt at making Reigns feel bad. Fucking little shit even had the audacity to call Seth his bitch. He shouldn't have played along, he should have bent him over Reigns’ lap and fucked him senseless, he should have kept him gagged and cuffed. Weakness. That's what made him give Ambrose that inch to mess with Roman. After all, Roman deserved it for what he did. He _took_ Seth's title and paraded it around like it was rightfully his. 

Dean is merely a means to an end. The fact that he presented Seth with the perfect opportunity to fuck with the big, stupid Samoan was just perfect timing - or poor timing if you're Dean.

He opened the door to the boiler room and folded his arms across each other as Roman lifted his head and glared at him. The smirk forming on his mouth when the big lug growled was so satisfying. Grabbing another chair, he flipped it around and straddled it right in front of his former brother, smirk still firmly in place, and stared at him. He just wanted to make Roman squirm; he wanted to watch his jaw clench and unclench, he wanted to watch the rage bubbling over in his eyes, he wanted to see _all_ of it. It was a thing of beauty what he had created here. 

It was Roman who spoke first. “You here for a reason?”

“I'm here to make sure you understand something.” He answered after a few seconds of letting Roman stew. “I think things got a bit out of hand earlier. Things were said that may or may not be true, power was exerted when it shouldn't have been. But you know how he is.”

“Dean?” Roman sniffed. “You can tell him I stand by what I said.”

“I'm not telling him shit.” Seth responded with a snort of disdain that came out before he could compose himself. “What you need to understand is that Dean isn't in control here, I am.”

“He sure looked in control.”

“Yes, well, give the man an inch and he takes the fuck over when he should have just stayed the needy little pain slut he is.” Said Seth, remorseless, smiling again as Roman tugged hard on his bonds. He hit a chord, now he'd exploit it. “See, not everything Dean said was wrong. You abandoned him, just like everyone else, and he came running to the only person that could kiss it and make it better.”

Roman laughed, “You?”

“Me.”

“When have you ever cared about him?”

“That's the funny thing,” he said, standing now so he could circle his former brother. “ _I never have._ He was never anything to me but a warm hole.” Another tug and Seth knew he was getting somewhere. “Dean has always needed someone to treat him like shit, because that's how Dean is. As long as that person doesn't leave him to fend for himself, they can do whatever the _fuck_ they want to him. But _you_ were different. You treated him with love and friendship and blah, blah, blah. Then you took _my_ title and forgot about him, tossed him aside like he was nothing. Am I ringing any bells, Roman?”

There was no answer, his stormy eyes staring at his lap in regret. Again Seth grinned. Bingo. “That's what I thought. You want to know how he did it?”

“Shut up, Seth.” He said, voice so low Seth almost didn't hear him. 

“He found me in Dallas, just after that Lesnar fiasco.” He continued. “That was supposed to be his defining match, but he floundered like he always does.” 

He moved back to the chair so he could see Romans eyes when he really dug the knife in and twisted. “‘Roman wasn't there, Seth!’” He mocked. “‘He's never there!’”

Roman snarled as Seth's smirk got wider, if that was possible. “Fuck you!”

“Oh, he did. Often and with little thought for his own mental stability.” Seth chuckled. “But oddly, I gave him more of what he needed then you had in months! I took him over and over in the locker room that day and he cried for you. You ever make a grown man cry, Roman? It's a powerful feeling.”

Then Roman surprised Seth with a laugh, loud and boisterous like he had always done, and Seth's smirk faltered. He could feel the annoyance at Roman's audacity to laugh in his face. He was supposed to be angry, he was supposed to yell, scream, curse, and ultimately give up. That's what he was supposed to do. But here he was, laughing. “Something funny, Reigns?”

“Yeah, you!” He responded. “You think that anyone will see you as this big tough guy when you're nothing but a spoiled brat? Always have been.” Now it was Roman's turn to mock Seth in an over exaggerated impression. “‘I'm Seth Rollins! I'm champion! Why does no one like me!?’ Because you're a little shit who should have been dealt with ages ago.”

Seth could feel his fists clenching on the chair, digging his nails into the metal like they would split it in two. And Reigns continued, throwing his own words back at him with a smug quirk of his eyebrow. “Am I ringing any bells, Seth?”

He was up with a shot, tossing the steel chair aside like it was nothing and letting it clang loudly against the floor. Roman never broke eye contact, never even flinched, he just stared at Seth with a patronizing look on his stupid face. Seth wanted to slap it right off of him, so he did. Roman's head snapped to the side, but he came back chuckling at the fuming younger man standing there with his fists clenched and his chest heaving. 

“Let's cut to the chase, Seth.” He said calmly, licking the small trickle of fresh blood from the corner of his mouth. “This has nothing to do with Dean, he's just a pawn in your sick game. What are you really after?”

Now they were getting down to brass tacks and the smirk returned to Seth's face. “You and I both know you can hand that title over to me right now but it means nothing unless you formally relinquish it.” 

He leaned over Roman with one hand on either arm of the chair so he was right in his face, so Roman could see the seriousness in his eyes. “I told you in the video, you have something I want and I have something you want. Formally hand me to title and I'll leave Dean alone.”

“I don't believe you.” Roman growled, eyes locked with Seth's. “You like the power you have over him, you always have. Who's to say that you'll do as you promise or just keep torturing him like the sadist you are?”

A snorted laugh was his reply as he pushed off the chair and headed for the door. “I guess you don't. But if you really care about him, you'd take that chance.”

He didn't wait for an answer when he closed the door behind him and locked it. 

He was going to enjoy what came next.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was struggling with this chapter, so I have no idea if it's any good. At any rate, one chapter to go. 
> 
> Also, I cannot thank everyone enough for all the absolutely unbelievably amazing feedback. Seriously. I love you all!

Roman knew he had to get out of here, that was a given. Seth had lost his mind, and he'd taken Dean with him. And Dean, poor, fragile Dean let him do it. God, how could he be so blind? How could he not see that Dean needed him? He was so caught up in that fucking title, so caught up in proving that he was the best, he let Dean fall by the wayside. That's not something that should ever happen to him. He knows how Dean it, he knew the path of self destructive behavior he could put himself on would send him right to Seth. 

“Fuck!” He spat angrily, more in frustration over Dean than his current predicament. He could handle Seth and his little mind games, Dean obviously couldn't. 

He began twisting his arms wrapped in tape, hoping to somehow squirm free and get to Dean somehow. “Maybe if I...I could...I just…fuck…”

A defeated sigh passed his lips just as the boiler room door opened again. He snarled as Seth stepped through, Dean at his back with his eyes cast down. He looked hurt, like something had happened in the last few hours that would dramatically change his demeanor to this submissive sort of state. He'd never seen Dean look like that. Ever. He was always so strong, so defiant, so rebellious to the end. Now, he looked like a small child who had just gotten scolded, or worse. 

Seth was smiling, smug, like he had always been. He knew he had the upper hand because he had Dean. Roman wouldn't dare hurt Dean. “Hey, _brother_. You think over our little conversation last night?”

He eyed him carefully, “What went so wrong with you, Seth?”

“Me?” He laughed indignantly. “There's nothing wrong with me! I'm simply taking back what's mine.”

“And using any means necessary to do it, right?” He added, making sure to nod his head toward Dean. “Or anyone?”

“You're damn right I am!” Seth snapped, taking a warning step forward, hands clenched at his side. “He knows what he got himself into.”

“I don't think he does.”

“Well, you don't think for him.”

“And neither do you!”

They both stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Roman knew Seth was just a little nudge away from snapping. When he did, Dean would be the one to pay the price. It would be tough to not push him, but he also wasn't going to just lay down and give him what he wanted either. He had to reach Dean. Dean was the wild card here. He needed to stand up to Seth before he did something stupid like kill them both and leave them in a ditch somewhere to rot. At this point, he wouldn't put it past the Architect. 

It was Seth who broke the silence. “What's your answer, Reigns?” 

Roman resolutely ignored him, instead trying to reach the one person who could turn this whole thing around. “Dean, listen, I'm sorry for what happened. I didn't reali-”

The slap to the face was a surprise. It happened so quick he had no time to brace for it. Seth was glaring at him when he recovered, a finger pointed directly in his face. This Seth wasn't playing around anymore. “ _You_ don't get to talk to him.”

“Why?” He asked, defiantly glaring right back. “Afraid I'll reach him? Afraid he'll _turn_ on you? Irony at its best.”

That smirk was back, pulling at the corners of Seth's mouth like he knew that would never happen. “You don't seem to understand just how much Dean wants this. He came to me, remember?”

Roman glanced at Dean, his eyes still averted downward, a defeated look washing over his face. He again tried to talk to him, making sure to keep his voice calm, even, loving, “Dean, don't let him do this.”

Another slap, this one hard enough to blur his vision for a few seconds. But rather than him in his face, Seth was backing up toward Dean and threw an arm over his shoulder. Roman felt his fists clench, but he tried to remain calm. 

“You want this, right Dean?” He asked, an obvious manipulation. “Tell Roman.”

Dean was silent, so uncharacteristic of his usual self it was physically shocking. It took Seth grabbing the back of his hair and yanking before any sound left his mouth. It was a small, muttered “Yes.” 

Another hard tug, “I don't think Roman heard that. Clarify for him.”

Dean swallowed, wincing at the fingers pulling his hair. “I want this.”

Seth looked back at Roman, who was trying so desperately not to scream and yell at Dean, smirk still plastered there on his lips. But he was still talking to Dean when he spoke again, “We should show him.” He released his hair and quickly ordered Dean to strip. 

That's when Dean finally made eye contact with Roman as if looking for permission, help, something. All Roman could do was shake his head and silently plead with Dean to not give in. 

But he did, and it broke Roman's heart that he had reduced one of the best friends he had ever had to _this_. His jacket went first, then his shirt, quickly like he was in a rush to get this over with. A glance at Seth watching and licking his lips with every discarded article of clothing was enough to send a nauseous jolt to Roman's stomach. He really was sick. 

Once Dean stood naked, Seth again grabbed his hair and lead him to stand directly in front of Roman before bending him over so his hands braced on either arm of the chair, right on top of Roman's forearms, and they were face to face with each other. He still refused to make eye contact. 

He was vaguely aware of Seth speaking as he moved to stand behind Dean, “See how easy he is. So fucking easy.”

There was a short spitting sound as Seth wet his fingers and a sharp hiss from Dean when he shoved them unceremoniously into him. 

He tried to catch Dean's eye, make him look at him while Seth lovelessly opened him up. The look on his face wasn't pleasure, Dean was not enjoying this. “You don't have to do this.” He said calmly. “You can stop him.”

That's when he looked at him again, “I can't.”

“Why?”

Dean looked away and winced, Seth still working him open roughly. “You left me.” He whispered.

“And I'm sorry.” Roman said, voice just as low, the most honest thing he had ever said in his life. “But so will he. Look at me.”

Deans eyes lifted and Roman smiled reassuringly. “I will never leave again, I promise.”

Another spitting sound brought them both back to reality, a new determination set in Dean's eyes. While Seth lined himself up, Dean quietly tore the tape off Roman's wrists with a small smile and a wink. 

The following was a blur. Roman was on his feet, pulling Dean out of Seth's grasp and pushing him out of the way. While Seth was distracted with shock, he was able to tear the tape off his ankles and lunge for him. He caught him in the midsection, knocking the air from the Architects lungs if the pained gasp for air was any indication. His hand was immediately at Seth's throat, squeezing.

He would have stayed like that until the little sucker passed out. He wanted Seth to suffer for what he did, he wanted him to _pay_. And he would have done it without a second thought, but he knew he was better than him. He was a bigger man than Seth would ever be. 

He let go and couldn't make himself feel bad for the sharp coughs escaping Seth's as he tried to take in the breath he was denied. “Consider yourself lucky!” He growled. “I'm not going to stoop to your level.”

“This isn't over!” Seth coughed out. 

Roman stood, “It is for me.”

In one swift move, he lifted his foot and slammed it down into Seth's ankle. The bone gave way easily under the force and the younger man screamed, tears beginning to fall down his face. This made Roman smirk and he crouched to his level. “You're right, Seth. Making a grown man cry is a powerful feeling.”

He knocked him out with one kick to the temple.

When he turned to find Dean, he was standing off to the side, having already gotten his jeans back on, watching Roman carefully as if unsure what to think or how to feel. He approached him slowly, arms out as if calming a frightened beast. 

Deans eyes were red rimmed and glassy when Roman finally reached him. They said nothing to each other because there was nothing to say. All it took was Roman pulling Dean to his chest and hugging him close for the levee to break and tears to flowly freely. 

“I'm so sorry!” Dean wailed into his shoulder, gripping the fabric of Roman's shirt for dear life, like he would disappear if he let go. “I'm so stupid!”

“No you're not.” Roman replied calmly, stroking the back of Dean's head reassuringly. “This is my fault. All of it. It will _never_ happen again.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”


	8. Chapter 8

“You ready for this, little brother?”

Dean was bouncing from foot to foot, pumping his arms forward in shadow punches to keep himself warmed up. Title defenses aren't easy, so he'd have to keep on his toes. “I got this, Ro!”

Roman was smiling, standing off to the side and watching him. He was so happy for Dean. After everything, he bounced back just like he always did. Dean Ambrose: survivor. 

Roman had kept his promise, making sure that he was always there when he was needed. In one thing Seth was right, Roman never treated Dean like shit because Dean wasn't shit. Dean was a fighter who didn't need to be manhandled, he needed to be loved and respected. Roman, it seems, was one of the only people to do that for him...ever. 

“Well, you give him hell.” He laughed, moving to stand next to Dean. “And when you have that IC title back around your waste, we’re celebratin’!”

“Champions again.” Dean said, dimples flashing with the toothy grin. Then he stopped moving, usually a sign something was eating at him because Dean was a perpetual motion machine on a good day. But, Dean didn't always have good days. Not after Seth. 

“Do you ever wonder what happened to him?” He asked suddenly, looking Roman right in the eye with a face full of curiosity and a hint pain. 

He asked this every so often, as if he missed the man who manipulated and tortured him. Somehow Roman couldn't bring himself to fault him for it. Dean was vulnerable and Seth was convincing. It made Roman's blood boil to this day. He let Seth off easy once, but he wouldn't be responsible for his actions if he ever saw him again.

But Dean didn't need to see that anger, he needed reassurance. So Roman clapped him on the back and gave him his best encouraging smile. “It's been six months. I'm sure he's moved on by now. Besides, you have a match to win.”

Then the flash of fear was gone and replaced with the smile of a man ready to fight. He was bouncing again, a good sign, and when his music hit he exploded through the curtain with all the determination he could muster. 

Roman was proud of Dean. So proud.

But what Roman and Dean didn't see was the man in the black hoodie watching from the back row of the arena. They didn't see the angry flash on his face. They didn't see the way he clenched his fists in his lap. They didn't see…

And they wouldn't see it coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, that's all she wrote for now. I left it open (obviously) for the possibility that I might do a sequel somewhere down the line. 
> 
> Hope everyone liked it. 
> 
> XOXO


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